She hopped down from the engine and grabbed the medical bag. One of the men standing in the parking lot wore a vest withUS Marshalemblazoned on it.
The Marshals were here.
Of course, that explained the federal agent who’d been shot. Unease filled her gut. She had a job to do and a life to live. Working on the marshal in charge of her case could be risky. If her US Marshal handler, Ethan Butler, was hurt, she’d have to pretend she didn’t know him.
The broad-shouldered marshal marching toward her confirmed he wasn’t the one injured. Working on patients was hard enough, but knowing them made it tougher.
She didn’tknowknow Deputy Marshal Butler, but still, she didn’t want anything to happen to him. Not that she wanted anything to happen to someone else either…
She took a deep breath, casting the circling thoughts from her head. She needed to focus on the patient, whoever it might be.
“What do we have?” Lieutenant Fischer asked Deputy Marshal Butler.
“One of my guys has a GSW to his shoulder, and the fugitive has a GSW to the chest.” He didn’t even look at her.
“Greer, you take the marshal. Williams, you take the fugitive.”
“Yes, sir.” Greer peeled off from the group and headed in the direction Deputy Marshal Butler pointed.
Lieutenant Fischer had unknowingly made the best decision. Just as they weren’t aware of her real name, none of her coworkers knew she was a licensed nurse. Or Madison Johanson had been, at least. She had more training than Greer, even though they both had the same paramedic qualification. But she couldn’t go beyond the bounds of what a paramedic could do without serious consequences. Like losing her certification and license. She had to follow the rules.
She wasn’t a nurse anymore.
She wasn’t a lot of things.
She followed Butler to a man lying on the concrete in the supine position, cuffed hands beneath him. His shirt had already been cut away, and a woman wearing a US Marshals vest held some sort of cloth over the wound to apply pressure.
He appeared alert and oriented. How was that possible?
Sam dropped the medic bag, pulled gloves from her pocket, put them on, then knelt. She looked the man in the eye. “I’m Sam. I’m a paramedic, and I’m here to help you. What’s your name?”
“John,” the man said.
“Hello, John.” She turned her attention to the brunette female. “What do we have?”
She could clearly see the gunshot wound, but she needed to know if there had been any other trauma or possible injury.
“One shot to the chest. Entry wound only.”
Sam quickly looked the patient over and didn’t detect any obvious signs that suggested an open pneumothorax. If the lung had been punctured, they would have bigger problems than just blood loss.
“Keep pressure on the wound. I’m going to apply a chest seal.” She grabbed the packet and opened it. “Okay, let me see the wound.”
The marshal lifted the cloth and sat back.
A small entry wound with minimal bleeding. Where was all the blood? He’d taken a bullet to the chest, an area of the body full of major arteries and organs.
Just because he was fine now didn’t mean he’d remain that way. The man sitting in front of her was a ticking time bomb. She would need to watch for cardiac tamponade. If John’s heart was being constricted by internal bleeding, he would require immediate intervention. Something even Madison Johanson wasn’t qualified to do.
Using the gauze that was included in the packet, Sam wiped the man’s chest free of blood and then put it on the wound. “Hold this.”
The marshal held the gauze while Sam removed the protective film from the seal. She looked at the man. “When I count to three, I want you to exhale as much as you can and hold it. Can you do that for me?”
The man nodded his head.
“Okay, one. Two. Three.”
The man exhaled. Sam grabbed the gauze from the marshal and wiped the wound again, then applied the seal and pressed around the edges, making sure it adhered to the man’s skin.
